“Fan-fucking-tastic! Let’s drink to that!” She signaled the bartender for another round of tequila shots.
“He’s so big. Like huge. I never imagined I could enjoy a man with a cock that big. It was…intimidating at first. I mean, I’m small, how could he fit?”
Frankie was laughing so hard that she had to put both hands on the bar. “Oh my God! I love you so hard when you’re tipsy!”
“Do you think he’s, like, stretching me out? I mean, he must be, because we can fuck really hard now, and at first it took him a while just to work himself inside.” I had the very lucid thought that I must be really drunk to be talking like this.
She was still dying with laughter, just shaking her head, again and again.
“Is that possible? Could that be where the term loose comes from?”
“I don’t think it works that way,” she gasped. “Babies come out of that thing.”
I nodded, thinking fuzzily that she had a good point. “And he absolutely loves eating my pussy. Like, he could do it all day, he loves it so much. I didn’t think a man could be like that, so into getting me off.”
She was back to laughing hard and clutching the edge of the bar. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m not recording this. You are my favorite drunk ever. Let’s drink to Tristan’s oral fixation, because if anyone can appreciate going down on a girl, it would be me. Maybe he and I are like pussy eating soul mates, because I could eat a snatch all day.”
I was giggling so hard that it took me three tries to grab the shot the bartender slid me. “You’re so bad,” I told her, dissolving into another fit of giggles.
We were both blitzed by the time the band finished their set. I cheered loudly as the small crowd went wild, then watched with longing as they left the stage, heading somewhere in back.
“I’ve only been fifty feet away from him all night, and I still missed him. Isn’t that nuts?”
“Totally. It’s also sweet. You’ve got it bad, huh?”
“So bad.”
“Well, he’s got it bad, too. Don’t you ever forget it.”
I just shook my head, unable to admit out loud that he didn’t, or if he did, he sure wasn’t telling me about it.
I felt someone kiss the top of my head, and swiveled around to see that it was Jared, not Tristan, as I’d been expecting. I grinned, nearly as happy to see him. I hopped off my barstool, giving him an exuberant hug.
“Good job! You guys were amazing, as always.”
“Thanks, sis,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. He pulled back, studying my face. “You’re sloshed, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “It’s you and your brother’s fault. I’m trying to train my liver to keep up with your lifestyle. I need to shape up to stay in the picture.”
He stroked an affectionate hand over my hair. “You don’t have to change a thing. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Even drunk, I could see that his eyes were glassy like they got when he was high, but I still thought it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.
The other four members of the band approached us just moments after that touching scene.
Tristan was smiling, not at all bothered by the fact that me and Jared were having another love fest. “You telling my baby bro how much you love him again?” he asked. He wore his fond smile, and just then I thought I might love that one the most.
“I was getting to it,” I admitted.
Tristan shouldered his brother aside playfully, moving until he was standing close, shifting his thighs between my legs. I was wearing shorts, but he parted my legs so wide that I was afraid I may have still been indecently exposing myself.
I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he buried his hands in my hair, and I quickly got distracted.
He leaned in close, his eyes smiling into mine. “I thought it was distracting to have you in the crowd, but I realized tonight that seeing you laugh at the bar while I perform is even more distracting.”
I pouted. “Sorry.” I pointed at Frankie, who was nursing a drink, and smirking at us. “It was her fault. She was making me laugh. Are you going to ban me from performances altogether now?”
“Don’t be silly,” he scolded, shaking his head at me, and using his hands in my hair to shake mine with him. “Of course not. I just realized tonight that I need your full attention on me, or it drives me crazy. I think I’ve thought up another solution.”
I arched a brow at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You need a bodyguard with you in the crowd, so I don’t have to come down and break any nuts while we’re on stage. I’ll find somebody before our next gig.”
I giggled, because a bodyguard sounded like a crazy idea to me. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but never got a chance, as he bent down, slanting his lips over mine.
His mouth was hot, and hungry, devouring mine. He always tasted so good. I could never get enough. His tongue slipped into to my mouth, and I moaned, licking and sucking at him.
He pulled back briefly. “You taste like tequila,” he said breathlessly. “Had a few, huh? I think I might be able to get buzzed just tasting you.”
That made me giggle some more, and the giggling only stopped when he was kissing me again.
We necked like teenagers in the middle of a bar for God only knows how long. It was insane, and tacky, and wonderful.
His hands stayed firm on my hips as his mouth drank from mine, with long, hungry pulls. We’d never done this before, just kissed for what could have been hours. Our chemistry had always just been so crazy, our lust a race to the finish line that ended in ecstasy.
He pulled back at one point, panting into the top of my head. I turned, scraping my tongue across his stubble roughened jaw, begging for his mouth again.
He gave it to me, and we kissed like that for the longest time. We ignored all the calls from our friends of ‘get a room’, lost in our own little world of drugging kisses, and in my case, mad crazy love.
“You’re so perfect,” I murmured to him as we came up for air. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”
His laugh was rough and breathless. “I’m as far from perfect as a person can get, but I am all yours.”
That warmed me down to my toes, as did the press of his lips on mine. He eased back from all out necking, and began to give me sweet, short kisses.
I tried to press my body to his, but he backed away.
“I can kiss you all night, sweetheart, but if we start dry humping in this bar, I’m liable to embarrass myself.”
“I want you,” I whispered, as his lips came back to claim mine. “I want you deep inside of me. For hours. I told Frankie how huge you are, how you stretch me you’re so big, but I didn’t tell her how perfect it feels to have you inside of me.”
He pulled back, gasping out a laugh, his eyes finding Frankie. “You got an earful, huh?”
Frankie grinned, toasting the air. “Drunk confessions are the best. Tequila is like a truth serum, and she can’t take any of it back.”
“We could fuck in the bathroom, like we did in the casino that one time,” I said into his ear, seriously hot for him now, so hot I didn’t know how I could bear to wait until we got home.
He shook his head, smiling. “Not at this place, we can’t. It’s not four a.m. and deserted, like the casino was.
“Let’s have sex in your car then,” I suggested, trying to pull him flush against me.
He studied me, biting his lip. I tried to tug his head down to me, because I wanted to bite his lip, too, but he wouldn’t budge. “That’s a hard offer to turn down. It won’t be comfortable, not that I give a damn about that.”
I shook my head at him, my eyes wide. “I don’t give a damn either. I need your cock buried in my pussy like ten minutes ago.”
That has his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. “Aren’t you in a mood tonight? Normally I can’t pry the word pussy out of you.”
“I do hate that word, but it’s not bugging me so much tonight. Pussy, p
ussy, pussy.”
“I love that word,” Frankie mused, shamelessly listening to our conversation. “I love any word that gets a visceral reaction, every time you use it out loud. Pussy. Cunt. Fuck. Cock. Though it should be noted that the word cock is my least favorite of all of those.”
Tristan turned his head to look at her, smirking. “How come that doesn’t shock me?”
She snickered. “Here’s all I’m saying, everything about a woman can be pretty, from her feet to her ears, but the same can’t be said for a man.”
Tristan threw his head back and laughed, his hands rubbing my hips. I loved his throat. The sight of it stretched like that drove me wild. I pushed up so I could lick it, and then suck hard enough to leave a mark.
“I can’t argue with you there,” Tristan told Frankie. “I’m right there with you; team pussy all the way.”
I smacked his arm. “That sounds way too general for my taste.”
He laughed harder, pulling my face into his chest. “Okay. I’m team Danika’s pussy all the way. That better?”
I nodded, appeased at the conclusion to that ridiculous conversation.
“Go ahead, go screw in your car,” Frankie told us, her tone wry. “Don’t delay on my account. You’ve been making out in front of me for hours. Why get shy now?”
“Good point,” Tristan said, taking her suggestion, and ignoring her sarcasm. “Excuse us. We’ll be back in ten to fifteen minutes.”
Frankie’s grin turned rueful. “I wouldn’t go advertising that. It’s not exactly an endorsement.”
“I’ve never had any complaints,” was his parting shot as he tugged me out of my chair.
I felt giddy as we raced to his car, clutching hands and laughing.
“We’re going to get ourselves arrested,” Tristan muttered as he opened the back door of his car for me.
I just laughed harder, strangely uncaring of that possibility.
He crowded me into the car, and it was a tight fit, to put it lightly.
“Are you wet?” he asked, as he positioned me on my hands and knees, facing away from him. He began to peel my tiny jean shorts off.
“I’ve been wet since the moment you touched me.”
“Good,” he grunted, folding himself over my back, lining himself up at my entrance. “Tell me if I’m too rough. I need to fuck you hard after all of that making out.”
I moaned loudly as he worked himself into me, his breath hot on my neck, coming out in fast pants as he invaded me.
“I need you, Danika. I’ve never needed anything like I need this.” Each word was drawn out and punctuated with a rough stroke. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.”
It wasn’t his usual dirty talk, and his words fed so much more than my desire. I needed to hear these things, craved every little sign that he might be anywhere near as obsessed with me as I was with him.
His hands moved over the curves of my breasts, kneading softly at that aching flesh while pounding hard into the core of me. My nipples were puckered hard, and he pinched and then pulled them taut. It ached in a way that made me whimper in pleasure.
He rammed his huge, engorged length into me, hard and fast, keeping up an unrelenting pace that made me grip the door handle for dear life.
“Is it too much?” he rasped into my ear.
It was. It was so much, too much, his fast, brutal invasion stuffing me so full that I felt like I couldn’t take it for another second, but I’d never tell him that, never let him stop with the wonderful filling of me.
The sensations were so intense that I wasn’t sure if I was about to come or scream my head off.
Turns out, I did both.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Three days later, we found ourselves at a house party for some friend of Jared and Frankie’s. It was a big house, and pure chaos, and the second we stepped in the door I wondered why I’d let myself be talked into it. I was tired. I hadn’t had a decent night of sleep in I didn’t even know how long, and house parties had never been my favorite. It always just tended to be the stoner way to party, since you had to hide that stuff in clubs and bars.
I could smell the pot smoke in the air the second we got in the door, and someone was actually snorting coke off a table in a room just right of the entrance, fully visible from the front door.
I was so over it.
All of that was bad enough, but about ten minutes in, as we made our way through the crowd, looking for Jared or Frankie or Cory or Kenny, I spotted my ex. Not Daryl the Dickhead. The other one. Patrick. The one that hadn’t been a complete dickhead, though I’d dumped him anyway. He’d gotten too heavy into drugs for me to deal. And I’d fallen out of love with him. Though now that I’d found what I’d found with Tristan, and felt this crazy, out of control thing in my chest every second of the day, I had to admit that I hadn’t fallen out of love, I’d just never fallen in.
I had a strange epiphany as I stared at Patrick’s profile. I’d called it love, and looked for love, because that’s what I’d wanted, but love was not a thing you could force yourself to feel, or, more importantly, it was not a thing you could keep yourself from feeling. Both realizations were demoralizing for me, a girl with control issues.
I was jolted out of my thoughts as Tristan threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.
“What’s up, sweetheart? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
I grimaced. I very much wanted to avoid Tristan seeing Patrick and finding out that he was an ex, if at all possible. I just had a feeling that Tristan wouldn’t take the meeting well. And that feeling was backed up by experience…For a former man-whore, he tended to be surprisingly jealous.
“Nothing like that,” I finally answered. “I’m just not feeling this party. The chick snorting coke on the way in was a bit too hardcore for me.”
He gave me his wry smile, rubbing my shoulder. “Yeah. This was not what I was expecting. Jared knows some crazy people, and Frankie knows everybody in town.”
I started to make my way out of the room, heading to the backyard, when I saw Patrick spot me out of the corner of my eye. I knew it because he froze, and a second later, began to move toward us.
I grabbed Tristan’s hand, trying my best to paint a very clear picture for Patrick. I didn’t look his way again, and only hoped he’d gotten the hint.
We found Frankie and Jared out by the pool.
“Where are the rest of the guys?” Tristan asked them by way of a greeting.
“Hell if I know,” Jared said, sounding put out about it. “They were supposed to be here hours ago. So were you, for that matter.”
Tristan whipped out his phone. “Let me call ‘em.”
I was feeling antsy, and glancing around constantly, afraid that Patrick would follow us out. He didn’t, not right away, but within five minutes I saw him coming out the back door, scanning the crowd. I knew, just knew, that he was looking for me.
It had been a strange ending with Patrick. It was almost like I’d just woken up one day and seen the situation for what it was; a relationship between teenagers who should have only ever been friends. What hadn’t been sudden was my revulsion every time he’d wanted to have sex. And realizing that you didn’t have to keep having sex with someone if you didn’t want to had been an important lesson for me, though of course I’d had to relearn it with Daryl. The fact that Patrick had started doing some hardcore drugs had helped me to end it, as well, though I knew better than anyone that with my co-dependent streak, especially back then, I would never have left him for that alone, if I’d felt for him even a tenth of what I felt for Tristan now. I liked to think I’d gotten past some of those co-dependent leanings, but if push came to shove, I couldn’t say with any certainty that I’d ever leave Tristan willingly.
Tristan still had his phone to his ear, and I squeezed his arm to get his attention.
When he looked at me, I pointed at the house.
“Bathroom,” I told him, and took off. I assumed Patrick just
wanted to say hi. I wanted to just get that over with, and avert any drama with Tristan.
I made it maybe three steps into the living room when a hand grabbed my elbow from behind. I knew instantly that it wasn’t Tristan. The hand wasn’t big enough.
I turned and looked into Patrick’s steady gaze. “Hey,” I said, giving him a weak smile. “How’s it going?”
He studied me for a long time. “I’m okay. It’s really nice to see you. You look…amazing.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling flattered by the admiration in his tone, and unwillingly, enjoying it.
He was tall. Not Tristan tall, but he was close to six foot, with dark hair, a medium build, and some awesome tats. He was very handsome, in a boy next door kind of way. I’d forgotten just how nice his smile was, how sincere. And he still had enough dirty rocker in him to make my heart beat a little faster.
Even if it was only remorse, I was surprised to feel something, after all this time.
I hadn’t been cruel about the breakup, which in the end, had been the most brutal thing of all. I’d drawn it out, to spare his feelings, and ended up hurting him worse.
“You’re dating Tristan Vega,” Patrick said, as though he was still processing it, and what he had learned didn’t please him one bit.
“You know him?”
“I know of him. He’s the lead singer of that band that James Cavendish is backing. He has a reputation…”
That was news to me. Not the reputation part, but the James Cavendish backing. I’d known he was introducing them to some record people, but I hadn’t heard anything about him actually putting money up for them himself.
“A lot of local bands are really bitter about that. Their band hasn’t paid their dues, and here they are, getting cash backing from one of the biggest names in town.”
That had my hackles rising a bit. “And who gets to decide what dues you have to pay to make it? They’re really good. Best I’ve ever heard live.”
This was a bit of a dig. Okay, it was a huge, mean dig, because Patrick was the drummer in a local band that had been going hard in the live scene for years.
“Ouch, Danika.”
Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) Page 29
